


It Was All Yellow

by anisstaranise



Series: From My Heart Flown: Collection of Drabbles [23]
Category: Glee
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:56:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4976245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anisstaranise/pseuds/anisstaranise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tensions run high over a wrongly painted wall</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was All Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> For Maggie, who prompted " _The paint's supposed to go where?_ " from [this](http://anisstaranise.tumblr.com/post/112469478330/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you) prompt list

He drops the paint brush with a dull _plop_ back into the can, his paint-stained fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Excuse me?” he asks, finally turning to face his husband. “The paint’s supposed to go where?”

“The Duckling yellow coat is supposed to cover the wall facing east!” his husband barks angrily.

“Blaine, what difference does it make?”

“It makes all the difference because the colour will _radiate_ when the sun rises in the morning and the nursery will glow.”

He sighs. He knew the pressures of welcoming a baby into their family would bring an abundance of feelings- excitement and nervousness being the two main ones but Blaine’s freak outs over trivial things like which coat of paint goes on which wall is starting to wear his patience.

He’s about to suggest he re-do the paint work tomorrow when Blaine shoves him away to pack up the paint.

“I’ll repaint it white once it dries,” Blaine grumbles.

He can’t take it anymore. Last week Blaine almost bit his head off for buying the cot sheets with the wrong thread count and before he could offer to take it back to the store and exchange it, Blaine was already out the door, receipts and sheets in hand. It feels as though Blaine doesn’t trust him to make decisions or to amend his honest mistakes on his own.

“Is this what it’s gonna be like?” he asks weakly, feeling defeated. “When the baby comes, is this what it’s gonna be like?”

Blaine stops his packing and looks up at him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s like you think I’m a screw up- that I can’t even paint the wall right so you’re just gonna do it yourself, cut me out of it all.”

His voice trembles a little from the anger and sadness he feels.

“Sebastian, that’s not-” Blaine starts to say but he doesn’t give his husband the chance to finish.

“- do you even trust me enough to raise our child? Or do you think I’ll screw that up too?”

He doesn’t wait for Blaine’s response, his feet already taking him down the stairs and out the door.

The yellow paint staining his skin is a bright contrast against the white picket fence as his hands pull at the gate but he stops in his tracks when he feels himself being pulled.

Suddenly, two strong arms engulf him in an embrace, a wet patch gracing the skin of his neck.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” Blaine mumbles into his skin.

His hands instinctively wrap themselves around his husband, the tension and anger in his body slowly seeping out of his pores; Blaine always had that calming effect on him.

“I just want everything to be perfect for our baby,” Blaine sobs. “I never meant to make you feel that way. I’m just-” his husband chokes.

“Just what, Blaine?” he asks softly.

“What if I’m bad at this- at being a father?”

He can’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips; the idea that Blaine make a bad father is so absurd. Blaine is the warmest, most loving person he has ever met. It still amazes him that he gets to call Blaine Anderson his.

Slowly, he tilts Blaine’s tear-stained face up and plants a soft kiss to his husband’s lips.

“You’re going to be a wonderful father, darling,” he says, all the honesty laced in the words. “Paints and thread counts won’t matter with a father like you. You, Blaine Anderson, are perfect.”

Blaine smiles and kisses him deeply, slowly pulling him back into their home, lips never leaving each other. They make love against the front door the moment it closes- Blaine panting his apologies every so often as he whispers words that he hopes will allay his husband’s parental insecurities.

Three months later, they would bring their baby boy home and settle him in the nursery, snug in his cot that lines the wall mistakenly painted Duckling yellow.

 

\--END

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> Comments welcomed.


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